A Prayer for the Sleeper
by TwentyFourCookies
Summary: As Jesse sits by Suze's window, he wonders what things would have been like, if he had been alive...


Disclaimer: As far as I know, I ain't Meg Cabot, so…

AN: Okay, Jesse's been dead, how long? This is just want I think he'd want. Come on, everyone dreams…

A Prayer for the Sleeper

It is night, warm, so you have left your window open. I sit there, by the curtains, and look out over the starlit water. A beautiful view, it once was. It is the same view I once had, many years ago. Back to when Carmel was just beginning. Back to when the roads were dirt, not smooth and paved like they are now. Back to when my sisters would tease me for confiding in the horses. Back to when I was alive…

It is indeed a beautiful view, but now, now that you are here, Susannah, the scenery does not matter anymore.

I glance away form the waters, and I see your face, soft under the moon light that has tickled in. You're breathing lightly, and I can feel something inside stir at the thought of you so close, so I look out at the ocean once again. Back to where it is safe.

_Nom de Dios_… Susannah, how can I tell you how I really feel? There are so many things that make me hold my tongue. So many things that make me bow my head and look away. This is not right. It is unholy, against all laws of nature. But I cannot help it. I do not want to stop. You, _you_, Susannah. You make me feel more alive than I did one hundred and fifty years ago.

And so I pray. I pray for my soul. I pray that you will find someone else, someone alive, and then I pray that you will love me anyway. I pray that my father will forgive me, for loving such a woman-or girl, as you would say-and then I pray that my father will forgive me for not wanting his forgiveness. You fill me with so many contradictions, Susannah, that in the end all I can pray for is forever to love you with.

_Lord Above, forgive us these sins…_

I have prayed for a future, Susannah. A future with you. There are so many things that I want. So many. I have sat there, in the quiet of the chapel at the Rectory, and I have thought. I have dreamed. It is all I can do, to sit there, and to pray for us. I am sure that the good father knows these things, these most secret thoughts. He must, because you, you in my thoughts, it _must_ be written on my face. I burn at times, for you, and for the life we could have had. That we _will_ have. I burn, and then I pray. So many things… I want you to have my name, Susannah. None of this "dating", that only ever seems to end painfully in someone's bed. No, unlike the boys of your school, and the brother of yours that watches you when you do not realize, I want us to be married. I want to see you walk down the aisle of the little chapel, as beautiful as you are tonight. I want you to my ring. And then, and then Susannah, I want to take you to our home, a white home with stables and the sea behind us, and I want to lay you down and love you Susannah. This thought makes me ashamed that I think of you in such a base way, but… I need you, Susannah. More than you could ever know.

I want us to have children, Susannah. I want us to have fine, strong sons, and beautiful little girls, with green eyes and the smile that melted my heart. _Your_ smile, Susannah. I want our daughters to have your smile, and be as strong and as feisty as their mother. I want to teach our daughters to ride horses, to fly, and our sons how to fight, yet be always courteous. I want to sit with you, Susannah, and to watch our family grow. To watch as our sons and our daughters go out onto the world and find their calling. To find their own families, like we found ours. I want to see our grandchildren. And then, and then Susannah, I want to cry at your grave, and pray that I will join you soon, because I know that you will not want to wait in that hallway.

I want so many things, Susannah. So I pray that God will forgive me my greed.

Standing close to your bed, I sigh. Susannah… Your hand moves slightly against your sheets, and, unable to help myself, I touch it. Your hand is warm and soft. You feel so… _alive_.

_Querida_…

As your eyelashes flutter, I pull my hand way, my heart pounding wildly. I should not be here, in a woman's room, while she is sleeping, but…

And so, as I get ready to go back to the Rectory, I say one last prayer.

_Lord above, keep this sweet sleeper safe, so that I may always love her…_


End file.
